


Find What You Love and Let it Kill You

by Wexchester (Charmsilver)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, fallen!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmsilver/pseuds/Wexchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas discovers what kind of person he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Find What You Love and Let it Kill You

**Author's Note:**

> “My dear, find what you love and let it kill you.
> 
> Let it drain from you your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.  
> Let it kill you, and let it devour your remains.  
> For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.
> 
> ━ Falsely yours, Charles Bukowski”

“How do you do it?” Cas asks Sam one day, his eyes red-raw from lack of sleep, jaw dusted in two-day old stubble. “How do you live? How do you stand it?”

Sam’s face is partially obscured by yesterday’s newspaper, but he peers around the edge and quirks one eyebrow at Cas. “I dunno,” he says, and shrugs. “You have to figure out what kind of person you are first, I guess.” 

“And how might one go about that?”

Sam looks at him then, really looks. He folds the paper into a square and sets it on the tabletop. “You good, Cas?” he inquires, concern budding in the corners of his eyes.

Cas nods abortively, wrings his hand together. “Yes, I–“ he pauses, sighs. “No, actually.”

Sam shuffles forward in his chair, curls his mouth into a gentle smile. “What’s on your mind?”

“I fell,” he says after a pause, because he doesn’t know what else to tell him. Because there _is_ nothing else to tell him.

And Sam, good-hearted Sam, kind-eyed Sam, purses his lips together in sympathy. “And you’re having trouble adjusting?”

“It has not been easy,” Cas admits.

Sam nods like he understands, even though Cas knows he doesn’t – couldn’t possibly. “Yeah,” he says, pushing back so he’s balancing on just two chair legs. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

Cas smiles, rueful. “Being human is harder than I ever expected.”

At that, Sam laughs. “I dunno, Cas. I know it doesn’t seem it, but I think life is pretty simple.” He tips back onto all four legs. “You’ve gotta find out what you love and let it kill you; that’s what being human is all about. That’s how you find out what kind of person you are.”

Cas blinks, taken aback. “I hadn’t though of that,” he murmurs, a surprised lilt to his voice.

Sam grins, picks up his paper and unfurls it with a flick of his wrist. “You can thank Charles Bukowski,” he says and vanishes behind the news spread once more.

  

_Find what you love and let it kill you._

They plague him – those words. They follow him up the stairs and nibble at the edges of his mind like hungry fish. He thinks about them in the shower while he scrubs the dirt from his fingernails, ponders them as he rolls Dean’s hand-me-down socks onto his feet.

_Find what you love–_

He lies back on the bed – _his_ bed – and stares at the ceiling, traces the cracks in the plaster with his eyes.

– _and let it kill you._

Yes, he thinks, it is quite simple: he must find what he loves.

And he must let it kill him.

 

Cas’ quest begins outdoors, in the burnished sun of the early afternoon. He walks on the verge of the road, between the fence and the asphalt, until he finds a patch of wildflowers growing.

Cas remembers that once, in a fit of madness, he had thought himself a bee. Now, especially now, he knows that he is not.

But he feels, without rhyme or reason, a certain affinity for the little creatures; their hive-like ways recall the mechanisms of Heaven – though they look after the earth so much better than the angels ever did. 

He smiles when one drifts into the maze of flowers, watches as it suckles from the heady pollen. When Cas leans down and extends his hand towards it, palm out, it alights upon his skin, nestles into the creases of his hand with a few contended buzzes. Cas hums, happy, and stands still until the insect has gone on its way.

He does not know why, but Cas finds he loves the bees, and that is as good a start as any.

 

Over the next few days Cas falls in love over and over again. 

He discovers the luxury of a hot bath, the strange taste of kettle corn on his tongue, the joy of making bread from scratch. He falls in love with the feel of water on his skin, the touch of grass on his bare feet.

He opens his heart to so many things, and slowly he begins to understand what kind of person he is.

 

Once, when Cas had saved a spider from the plughole in the kitchen sink, Dean had laughed and said: _Are you really gonna be that guy, Cas?_  

And Cas had beamed as he lowered the spider onto a tree outside, had watched as it scuttled away with a look of wonder on his face.

Because _yes_ , he was absolutely going to be that guy.

  

Being human, after that, is almost easy.

Except Cas knows, in truth, he is getting sidetracked.

_Find what you love and let it kill you_.

Cas loves to love; he has learned that much. But it has not killed him yet.

 

His quest ends on a Sunday in the dim light of the living room, the pitter-patter of rain sounding on the windows.

Cas is sitting with Dean, tucked into the couch cushions with blankets over their knees. They’re watching _Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid_ , because Dean has an insatiable appetite for Westerns, and Cas has never seen it before.

The movie is enjoyable, but Cas finds his gaze drifting, his attention wandering restlessly until it alights on Dean who is mouthing every word of the movie in earnest.

Something swells inside Cas’ chest then, and he feels it like a knife wound in his heart. _Find what you love and let it kill you_ , his brain reminds him, and it occurs to Cas that he has been very, very blind.

The distance between them is mere inches, and Cas finds himself leaning forward, bridging the gap so quickly Dean scarcely has a chance to register what’s happening before Cas’ lips touch his own. 

He makes a muffled noise of surprise but doesn’t pull away, so Cas kisses him harder, swills his tongue across Dean’s bottom lip until Dean is squirming beneath him. “You’re missing the movie,” he pants into Cas’ mouth, and Cas grins.

“Yes,” Cas murmurs, nipping at the sensitive skin of Dean’s neck. “I am.”

They kiss and kiss and kiss until Cas is sure the fire in his heart is going to consume him from the inside out; until he is sure he could die in this moment and be glad.

Then he pulls away, nestles into the crook of Dean’s neck and breathes into his skin. “You will be the death of me,” he mouths against the curve of Dean’s collar.

And what a death it shall be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Follow me on tumblr: wexchester.tumblr.com


End file.
